CHAPTER X

THE PRISONER OF GEEEN FANCY, AND THE LAMENT OF PETER THE CHAUFFEUR

He envied Mr. Rushcroft. The barn-stormer would have risen to the occasion without so much as the blinking of an eye. He would have been able to smile and gesticulate in a manner that would have deceived the most acute observer, while he--ah, he was almost certain to flounder and make a mess of the situation. He did his best, however, and, despite his eagerness, managed to come off fairly well. Any one out of ear-shot would have thought that he was uttering some trifling inanity instead of these words:

"You may trust me. I have suspected that something was wrong here."

"It is impossible to explain now," she said. "These people are not my friends. I have no one to turn to in my predicament."

"Yes, you have," he broke in, and laughed rather boisterously for him.

He felt that they were being watched in turn by every person in the room.

"To-night,--not an hour ago,--I began to feel that I could call upon you for help. I began to relax. Something whispered to me that I was no longer utterly alone. Oh, you will never know what it is to have your heart lighten as mine--But I must control myself. We are not to waste words."

"You have only to command me, Miss Cameron. No more than a dozen words are necessary."

"I knew it,--I felt it," she cried eagerly. "Nothing can be done to-night. The slightest untoward action on your part would send you after--the other two. There is one man here who, I think, will stand between me and actual peril. Mr. O'Dowd. He is--"

"He is the liveliest liar I've ever known," broke in Barnes quickly.

"Don't trust him."

"But he is also an Irishman," she said, as if that fact overcame all other shortcomings. "I like him; he must be an honest man, for he has already lied n.o.bly in MY behalf." She smiled as she uttered this quaint anomaly.

"Tell me how I can be of service to you," said he, disposing of O'Dowd with a shrug.

"I shall try to communicate with you in some way--to-morrow. I beg of you, I implore you, do not desert me. If I can only be sure that you will--"

"You may depend on me, no matter what happens," said he, and, looking into her eyes was bound forever.

"I have been thinking," she said. "Yesterday I made the discovery that I--that I am actually a prisoner here, Mr. Barnes. I--Smile! Say something silly!"

Together they laughed over the meaningless remark he made in response to her command.

"I am constantly watched. If I venture outside the house, I am almost immediately joined by one of these men. You saw what happened yesterday. I am distracted. I do not know how to arrange a meeting so that I may explain my unhappy position to you."

"I will ask the authorities to step in and--"

"No! You are to do nothing of the kind. The authorities would never find me if they came here to search." (It was hard for him to smile at that!) "It must be some other way. If I could steal out of the house,--but that is impossible," she broke off with a catch in her voice.

"Suppose that I were to steal INTO the house," he said, a reckless light in his eyes.

"Oh, you could never succeed!"

"Well, I could try, couldn't I?" There was nothing funny in the remark but they both leaned back and laughed heartily. "Leave it to me. I once got into and out of a Morrocan harem,--but that story may wait. Tell me, where--"

"The place is guarded day and night. The stealthiest burglar in the world could not come within a stone's throw of the house."

"By Jove! Those two men night before last were trying to--" He said no more, but turned his head so that the others could not see the hard look that settled in his eyes. "If it's as bad as all that, we cannot afford to make any slips. You think you are in no immediate peril?"

"I am in no peril at all unless I bring it upon myself," she said, significantly.

"Then a delay of a day or so will not matter," he said, frowning.

"Leave it to me. I will find a way."

"Be careful!" De Soto came lounging up behind them. She went on speaking, changing the subject so abruptly and so adroitly that for a moment Barnes was at a loss. "But if she could obtain all those luxuries without using a penny of his money, what right had he to object? Surely a wife may do as she pleases with her own money."

"He was trying to break her of selfishness," said Barnes, suddenly inspired. "The difference between men and women in the matter of luxuries lies in the fact that one is selfish and the other is not. A man slaves all the year round to provide luxuries for his wife. The wife comes into a nice little fortune of her own, and what does she proceed to do with it? Squander it on her husband? Not much! She sets out immediately to prove to the world that he is a miser, a skinflint who never gave her more than the bare necessities of life. The chap I was speaking of--I beg pardon, Mr. De Soto."

"Forgive me for interrupting, but I am under command from royal headquarters. Peter, the king of chauffeurs, sends in word that the car is in an amiable mood and champing to be off. So seldom is it in a good-humour that he--"

"I'll be off at once," exclaimed Barnes, arising.

"By Jove, it is half-past ten. I had no idea--Good night, Miss Cameron.

Sorry my time is up. I am sure I could have made you hate your own s.e.x in another half hour."

She held out her hand. "One of our virtues is that we never pretend to be in love with our own s.e.x, Mr. Barnes. That, at least, is a luxury reserved solely for your s.e.x."

He bowed low over her hand. "A necessity, if I may be pardoned for correcting you." He pressed her hand re-a.s.suringly and left her.

She had arisen and was standing, straight and slim by the corner of the fireplace, a confident smile on her lips.

"If you are to be long in the neighbourhood, Mr. Barnes," said his hostess, "you must let us have you again."

"My stay is short, I fear. You have only to reveal the faintest sign that I may come, however, and I'll hop into my seven league boots before you can utter Jack Robinson's Christian name. Good night, Mrs.

Van d.y.k.e. I have you all to thank for a most delightful evening. May I expect to see you down our way, Mr. Van d.y.k.e? We have food for man and beast at all times and in all forms."

"I've tackled your liquids," said Van d.y.k.e. "You are likely to see me 'most any day. I'm always rattling 'round somewhere, don't you know."

(He said "rettling," by the way.) The car was waiting at the back of the house. O'Dowd walked out with Barnes, their arms linked,--as on a former occasion, Barnes recalled.

"I'll ride out to the gate with you," said the Irishman. "It's a winding, devious route the road takes through the trees. As the crow flies it's no more than five hundred yards, but this way it can't be less than a mile and a half. Eh, Peter?"

Peter opined that it was at least a mile and a quarter. He was a Yankee, as O'Dowd had said, and he was not extravagant in estimates.

The pa.s.sengers sat in the rear seat. Two small lamps served to light the way through the Stygian labyrinth of trees and rocks. O'Dowd had an electric pocket torch with which to pick his way back to Green Fancy.

"I can't, for the life of me, see why he doesn't put in a driveway straight to the road beyond, instead of roaming all over creation as we have to do," said O'Dowd.

"We foller the bed of the crick that used to run through here 'fore it was dammed a little ways up to make the ice-pond 'tween here an'

Spanish Falls," supplied Peter. "Makes a durned good road, 'cept when there's a freshet. It would cost a hull lot o' money to build a road as good as this-un."

"I was only thinking 'twould save a mile and more," said O'Dowd.

"What's the use o' him savin' a mile, er ten miles, fer that matter, when he never puts foot out'n the house?" said Peter, the logician.

"Well, then," persisted O'Dowd testily, "he ought to consider the saving in gasolene."

Peter's reply was a grunt.